Page 2 of Savage Protector

I drop to my knees. At a nod from the one who seems to be in charge, the one holding Shahida, my hands are dragged behind my back and secured with a cable tie.

More banging, more shouting from elsewhere in the huge house, then two more men enter the bedroom. “No one else here, boss,” one of them snarls.

Their leader nods, then releases Shahida. She staggers, would probably have collapsed to her knees beside me, but he grabs her again and instructs someone to bring her a chair.

I’m surprised. I can tell she is, too, but she drops onto it and reaches for baby Sarah toddling at her feet. “Please, whoever you are, don’t hurt my children. Take what you want…” She pulls her silk scarf up to partially cover her face.

“I want Malik. Where is he?”

“He…he isn’t here,” she stammers.

“I can see that. And you are?”

“His wife. Shahida.”

“I see. Well, Shahida, I must apologise for this intrusion, but I urgently need to find Malik. Where. Is. He?”

“I…I…”

“He’s in Hull,” I blurt. I see no benefit at all in shielding my boss. My priority is Shahida and the little ones.

The leader turns to tower over me. “In Hull? Why?”

“He has a shipment arriving. He went to supervise the unloading and distribution.”

“What shipment?”

Again, I hold nothing back. “Kids. From Mumbai, mostly.”Or so I heard.

“Trafficking?”

“Yes. Orphans or street kids.”

“What does he do with them?”

“You don’t want to know.”

He drops to his haunches. “If I didn’t want to know I wouldn’t fucking ask. Answer the question.”

Fair enough.“They get auctioned off. The older ones? Girls? They go into the sex trade mainly. Some of the boys, too, the pretty ones. The others, especially the younger kids, make household servants.”

His brow furrows. A look of intense distaste flashes across his hard features. He turns to regard Shahida. “What’s your part in this filthy trade?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t… I mean, he never…”

“Malik never discusses his business with his wife. She doesn’t know anything,” I tell him quickly.

He swings his gaze back to me. “Is that so? Then perhaps it’s you I need to be talking to.”

“It’s a container ship from Rotterdam, due to dock in about four hours. I don’t know anything more about the cargo apart from what I already told you.”

“Really? We’ll see. Jack?” He straightens and gestures to the man beside him. “See what more you can find out. Try not to kill him. Yet.”

Shahida screams. “No! Leave him alone. He’s only a boy.”

Not strictly true, I’m nineteen, though I seriously doubt I’ll see twenty. The main thing, now, is to convince him to let Shahida and the kids live. That’s the last coherent thought I string together before a battering ram of a fist lands on my chin, sending me sprawling to the carpet. My assailant—Jack?—drags me back up and props me against the wall.

Shahida is sobbing, clutching Sarah to her chest. Bilal glares, defiant, his small fists clenched and tears streaming down his face.

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